


Oh, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (with Flowers in My Hair)

by butyoumight



Category: Green Day, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blasphemy, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-10
Updated: 2007-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Frank rolled his eyes again, slapping Tré on the arm, stealing his cigarette, and blowing a smoke ring at his face in an easy, fluid motion. "There's a first time for everything. Stealing wine from a grocery store was, like, rite of passage for the frosh at Rutgers."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (with Flowers in My Hair)

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha why do I do these things? My favorites always have to perv on each other, it's the way the world works.

"You're fucking kidding me."

"You mean you never have?"

Tré took a slow drag off his cigarette, exhaling towards the stars. "Can't say I ever had the need too. I always hung out with guys old enough to buy for me."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you probably also didn't still look twelve when you turned twenty-one."

Tré smirked. "That is also true."

Frank rolled his eyes again, slapping Tré on the arm, stealing his cigarette, and blowing a smoke ring at his face in an easy, fluid motion. "There's a first time for everything. Stealing wine from a grocery store was, like, rite of passage for the frosh at Rutgers."

"Ah." Tré shook a finger. "I didn't go to college."

"You missed out." Frank grabbed Tré's sleeve, tugging insistently, giving him a puppy dog pout that Tré swore could rival Billie Joe's in head-to-head combat. "Please?"

"You're begging me to commit crime, Frank."

"Like you haven't done plenty of criminal things, _Frank_."

Tré pursed his lips. "No one gets away with that. My _band_ doesn't get away with that."

Frank pranced around Tré in a circle, chanting in something of a singsong voice. "If you help me steal a bottle of wine, I'll take you someplace special!"

"Someplace special? We're in the middle of goddamn nowhere."

" _Everywhere_ has someplace special. I promise."

Tré sighed, taking his cigarette back from Frank, taking a slow drag, and flicking it into the gutter. "Fine, fine. Let's do it, then."

 

"So what are we doing tonight?"

Frank had a knife in one hand, his fork in the other, drumming on the edge of the table and most of the dishes within his immediate reach (which thankfully weren't many), completely oblivious to the stares this was garnering from the two actual drummers at the table.

"I was thinking gang bang." Tré's statement was followed by a low pitched chuckle, cut short by two sharp smacks to the back of his head, one from each of his band mates. Frank giggled, glancing towards Gerard, who smiled despite his intent focus on his glass of water.

"I want to go out."

Mikey snorted, shaking his head and prompting Frank to raise his middle finger at him.

"Why the hell not? We have two nights off, I want to enjoy it."

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Frankie."

"So? I can find something to do anywhere."

Gerard cleared his throat. "I planned on staying in." He glanced at Billie Joe, then resumed staring at his glass, tracing curlicues in the condensation.

Billie Joe ducked his head slightly. "Yeah, me too."

Only Frank noticed the smile flitting across Gerard's face at this statement.

"I'm probably just going to crash. I mean, we have a hotel for once, be nice to use it." Mike shrugged one shoulder, sipping at his drink.

Frank looked towards Ray and Bob, but neither would meet his eyes.

"So, what, no one wants to go out with me?"

"I'll go."

Frank blinked, looking over at Tré, lewd smirk firmly in place.

"I mean, it's no gang bang, but..."

Frank grinned. "Let's go for it."

 

Tré watched Frank through the empty wine bottle as Frank dashed across the field he'd found. Neither of them was truly drunk, no, but they each were a bit tipsy, and that was enough, Tré thought, as Frank fell face down in a patch of flowers.

He rolled over as Tré approached him, still carrying the bottle in one hand.

"You alright?"

"Always." Frank sat up, and began picking a stack of flowers, combing through the patch to find only the perfect flowers with the clean-edged petals and the perfect stems.

"I thought we were going someplace special."

"Consider this a pit stop. We need to prettify."

"Prettify?"

Frank began to carefully split the stems of the flowers and thread them together until he had a little hoop. He bounced to his feet and plopped the tiara of flowers onto Tré's head, giggling at how the flowers nestled into the faux hawk and stayed in place.

"Dude."

Frank resumed his careful ministrations until he had a matching crown on his own head. He snatched Tré's hand and dragged the older man off, leaving the wine bottle lying behind in the flowers.

 

Frank dragged slowly on his cigarette, blowing smoke rings towards the full moon. Tré carefully rolled a joint on his knee, humming to himself as he did.

"The view up here is fucking gorgeous." Tré said, lighting the joint and pulling the first ashy drag into his lungs, holding it there as he offered the joint to Frank with a tweak of his eyebrow.

Frank considered the joint for a moment before shrugging. A little pot never hurt anybody, not when you're throwing convention to the wind and following your punk rock urge.

They traded devices and as Tré exhaled a ghosted hit and dragged slowly on Frank's cigarette, Frank pinched the joint between two fingers and inhaled slowly.

At the end of the joint, and three cigarettes later, Frank was stretched out almost spread-eagle, his head in Tré's lap. Tré fingered his hair thoughtfully, smoothing straight dyed strands that reminded him of when Mike's hair was longer.

Frank thought he could physically feel the holier-than-thou rising from the Mormon Church beneath him, and he giggled to himself.

"Hey, Frank?" Tré's voice was soft, and for once, it relaxed Frank instead of grating on his nerves. He wasn't sure whether it was the lingering wine and the haze of smoke, or whether Tré's voice was just different when he wasn't acting out. Like Gerard, how Gerard's voice was so different on stage and in person, maybe Tré's voice did that.

"Yeah?"

"You're in love with Gerard, aren't you?"

Frank scoffed slightly, avoiding Tré's eyes looking down at him. They reminded him of Bob's. "I have a fiancée, Tré."

"Yeah, and I've had two wives, and Billie Joe's got his soul mate, but that doesn't stop us."

Frank blinked. "You two?"

"Oh, for sure. We're just there for each other, you know?"

"Yeah..."

"Have you ever told him?"

Frank shifted, rolling onto his stomach and curling into a kneeling position. Easier to avoid Tré's gaze and seeming concern. "Told him what?"

"That you love him."

Frank lit another cigarette. "No."

"Maybe you should."

"What would that accomplish?"

Tré chuckled, that same low tone giggle that Frank knew from it being tacked onto the end of lewd statements, which was most of what Tré ever said.

"You'd be surprised. For me, it accomplished Bills sucking me off in the dressing room."

Tré leaned over and pressed a quick, encouraging kiss to Frank's lips. "There's nothing wrong with having more than one relationship. If what Billie Joe has told me about your fiancée is true, that goes double for you. Keep that in mind."

 

The flowers were still in their hair, though wilting a bit, when they stumbled back into the hotel. The first rays of sunlight crept across the marble floor after them, and from the twenty-four hour coffee shop in the hotel lobby, Billie Joe and Gerard watched them, how they leaned against each other, giggling to half-spoken jokes and poking each other in the ribs every now and again. They were watched right up until they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed on them.

Billie Joe turned to Gerard, sipping at his coffee before reaching across the table to shove Gerard's shoulder gently.

"You'd better watch out. If I know Tré, he got through to him."

Gerard smiled into his coffee. "I think I can handle it."


End file.
